


Can't We Be Seventeen?

by Jani_Tomb (orphan_account)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Gwen Stacy, F/M, Gullible Peter, Heather's AU, High School, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I mean I wouldn't actually know, I was homeschooled, M/M, Manipulative Quentin Beck, Misunderstood LGBTQ character, but anyway, high school sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Jani_Tomb
Summary: Peter knows that he should be focusing on life after high school, but he can't help but feel drawn to the glamour of popularity in the now. When an opportunity to ditch the wallflower persona comes along, offered by the One and Only Black Cat of Midtown High, no less, will he be strong enough to resist the pull?The Heather's AU no one really cared to think about.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Gwen Stacy (one sided), May Parker/Ben Parker, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker, richard parker/mary parker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Can't We Be Seventeen?

**Author's Note:**

> It's the last day of 2019 and I wanted to at least say I've done something marginally cool in the last decade, lol. I'm terribly tired, and hungry, and honestly not super confident about what this is going to look like (currently and in the future), but we're giving it a shot. This is completely self indulgent and really I'm just very proud to have made it this far xD
> 
> Thanks to skyjoos for her help in looking this over! She's a fantastic writer, by the way, check her out (and while you're at it, convince her to pull the gun away from my head)!
> 
> All characters in this story are horribly misrepresented and shamelessly characterized. (It's almost like it's an AU, golly!)
> 
> Rated explicit for further chapters, and underage because technically Peter and Beck are 16 and 17, respectively.

Peter liked to think that his above average test scores meant that he was a pretty intelligent kid. After all, he was enrolled in one of the smartest high schools in the region, and was on the school’s winning Decathlon team to boot. His grades never slipped past a B-, and he knew for a fact that the only reason people wanted to sit next to him in class was because they had the chance to be in proximity of his papers, and not his winning personality. 

So frankly, the notion that he was still dumb enough to believe that high school would be anything like the movies was a little bit of a shock to him.

“Three years,” he sighed, closing his locker with a sigh that belied his teenage angst. “Three years in this hell hole and still the only way I can reconcile with waking up at 6:30 in the morning on the regular is that college is, slightly, around the corner, and it’s bound to be a lot more glamorous than this.” Peter rolled his eyes and turned his feet in the direction of his next class on auto pilot. Next to him, Gwen followed suit.

“Dramatic much, Parker?” she giggled, looping her arm in his. “It’s high school. Almost every star in the sky guarantees that life is gonna suck for at least these four years, no matter how much of a romantic spin you want to put on it. I honestly think we’ve been pretty lucky with it so far.”

“The only luck in my life is almost always preceded by the word Bad,” Peter responded, further proving Gwen’s dramatic proclamation true. “I’m so stressed I could kill a horse.” Gwen frowned, an adorable little crease kissing her forehead.

“You… wait, what?” she asked.

Peter sighed. “I don’t know, but you know what, I totally mean whatever it is I just said. I am so ready to just. Kill a horse.” Peter clenched his fist in mock anger, shaking it at no one in particular. Gwen snorted. 

“What the actual, dude.”

“I mean, it's just,” Peter started, completely ready to vent all of his frustrations to the platonic love of his life. “I know that technically senior year is supposed to be the most stressful, but I feel like I’ve been prepping to rush out of high school ever since we started freshman year. It's always been homework this, and study that, and all for, what? So that I can get into a good college and further kill myself with more assignments. And all I ask," Peter breathes, "is for a little fun now and then. I need some Degrassi in my life; I think I deserve it."

Gwen hums in response. "So… the drama queen wants even more drama."

"No!" Peter is quick to correct. "I'm not– that's not what I– look," he says, "I'm freaking invisible, okay. My only friends here are you and MJ, but damn if I could even talk to MJ after… " Peter trails off. Thankfully, Gwen takes the hint and simply nods her head.

“Alright, I’ll give you that. I’m just messing with you. You’re right though, in comparison with the movies, our lives are pretty vanilla.” Peter looked over at Gwen in all her gorgeous, blonde glory. He sometimes wondered how he had gotten so lucky to call her his best friend. Someone so composed, mature, and stunning was for sure better suited for the popular crowd. But Gwen always walked to the beat of her own drum, he supposed, and boy was he ever grateful for it. 

“You know, at this point, I don’t blame all the hype on the movies; I feel like all of that fun stuff actually happens in real life, just…”

“Not to us,” Gwen finished. Peter sighed.

“Exactly.” Peter looked around at the halls around them. He could hear little snippets of conversation, his listening skills having been honed from the years he sat on the sidelines as the unusually tall and lanky wallflower. All around them he helped himself to stories about exciting weekends, parties and raves. He could never understand how parents could let their children get away with such things, but then he supposed that a school full of geniuses probably had the ability to come up with some pretty good lies.

“Well, we don’t need anyone else anyways. As corny as you’re definitely going to take this, we only need each other.” Peter blushed. 

Gwen was everything to him; his big sister, his best friend, the one that he ran to when his aunt and uncle were being the absolute worst (read: smothering, coddling, cringe worthy dorks. If anyone else had words about them, he’d cut them to ribbons). As much as he loved her, though, he couldn’t help but want… more. Not from Gwen, no; they both knew a long time ago that they wouldn’t ever breach the bond they had beyond siblings, but he wanted more of everything else. Would he be so bold as to say… more friends? A little variety never hurt anyone, right?

“Speaking of,” she started again, “did you want to come over tonight? I just filched my cousins password for Disney+ and I am really feeling like a Jack Sparrow marathon.” Peter laughed. Gwen’s penchant for thirsting after tall, dark and handsome never ceased to amuse him. 

“What do you see in that dirty pirate, anyway?” 

Gwen clutched at her chest and gasped, scandalized.

“Captain Jack is a beautiful and brave soul, you take that back!” Peter laughed as Gwen swatted him into the oncoming pedestrian traffic. It was amazing how easily teens could be jostled and not particularly give a damn about it.

“Let’s not even mention his looks; that’s a given,” Gwen started. “He’s so quick witted, and inventive, and totally self sacrificing, and oh. My god, who wouldn’t want to sail the seas with such a dangerous, sexy man?” Peter tsked.

“Might wanna rethink the dangerous men, Gwenny.”

“Ha! Never. Nothing but the craziest for this girl,” she winked. Peter’s smile faltered. 

He couldn’t help it. Every time love and Gwen came up in the same sentence, he was forced to remember just exactly what sort of taste she had in men. Or, more accurately, boys. He just couldn’t understand why someone so intelligent and beautiful could be so caught up on a jock who put too much emphasis on social status and nothing at all into being a decent human being.

Gwen must have sensed his discomfiture, however, because she slowed down a bit and tugged him closer by the arm. “Stop thinking about it.”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.” Gwen rolled her eyes.

“You’re doing it again. You’re making the connection with my thirst for hot guys with my love for Harry Osborn. You’re a bad liar, Petey.” Gwen and Peter had unwittingly slowed down their pace as the walked the hall, enraptured in seemingly light conversation. The shrieks and flurries of papers around them made quite the environment. 

Peter watched as Gwen’s smile tightened and her eyes filled with both desperation and hopelessness. Desperation because she genuinely wanted Peter to understand her ridiculous unrequited crush, and hopelessness because deep down, she knew that it was a lost cause. Despite her romanticism, Gwen at least could admit that she was a realist. Peter shared with her a lopsided smile.

“Haha...yup. You love your tall, dark and stupid.” Peter decided that this wasn’t the place he had wanted to have this conversation. He had actually never wanted to have this conversation, but he knew it was necessary. He’d just have to wait until a better time. Gwen was the perfect mind reader, at least when it came to their relationship, so thankfully, she let out a small breath and with it, her will to keep the confrontation going. (Gwen took the out for what it was, and she dropped the conversation with a small exhale.)

“See you tonight, Pete.”  
_____

Why was change the only constant? Peter contemplated when things were simpler, when everyone was friends, or enemies, or in some other uncomplicated relationship. Now it seemed that friendships thrived on backstabs and enemies were actually sleeping with each other and no one just straight up told the truth. 

'I’m quite done with high school', Peter thought as he washed his hands in the school bathroom. He thought of the ridiculousness of the American public learning system and how homework and skills were judged individually by different personalities and really, didn’t that just mean that passing was based on likability? Popularity was such a useful tool, and he considered the irony that such a tool was actually used by tools. 

He snorted. “HIgh school.” What a dump. 

'But still,' he thought. “Popularity…”

He looked at the boy staring back at him from the mirror. Petite face, chestnut brown curls and honey eyes stared back. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t attractive; but he had to admit that his eyes held no sparkle. 

He’d been stuck for a while. A rut, he called it. “A mid teen crisis,” Gwen had teased. He just couldn’t seem to find his niche.

He acknowledged that high school juniors were under a lot of stress. Senior year was the big one, but juniors were supposed to know where they fit in the system already- which schools they were going to apply to and which career paths they were going to take. For a while, his uncle had wanted him to aim for something in biochemical engineering. Peter knew that logically, this was probably the best choice for him, but he hadn’t made any progress into researching about it because he was too damn focused on high school and his peers.

Peter sighed, splashing water on his face and by proximity, the mirror. His image distorted and he allowed himself a moment of angsty teenage dramatism, as Gwen had so lovingly pointed out.

It didn’t last very long.

Peter, with as focused as he was, hadn’t heard the footsteps coming towards him from outside the hall. They filled him with an icy chill that rivaled the personalities attached to them.

Because he knew those footfalls, that cadence. 

The Kittens.

Felicia and the Black Cats, to be specific. If there were ever any question about who topped the food chain, all one had to do was turn their head to the tall, imposing threesome that stalked the halls in five inch heels and identifiable black chokers. And sure enough, just as soon as Peter flit open a stall in his panicked state, he caught a glimpse of long silvery white hair and a whiff of way-too-expensive-for-school perfume, followed by two shadows that still somehow managed to shine in their own way.

Peter figured he was safe, for now. They couldn’t have heard me, right? He felt like such a creeper, peeking at them through the crack in the stall door. But how else was he supposed to act? It’d not as if he could just come out and wash his hands in front them. For one thing, he was in the girls bathroom, which, okay, yes, he may have taken advantage of the fact that everyone was in class and he didn’t think that anyone was going to catch him, but could you blame him? The girls bathroom smells better.

Besides, washing his hands would imply that he actually used the bathroom, like a disgustingly normal human being that needed to urinate to survive. He leaned in closer to get a better view. 

Felicia leaned over and wiped the edge of her mouth with a perfectly manicured finger. What imperfection she spotted, Peter couldn’t tell. “Hm,” she sighed. “What do you think, girls?”

“Perfect!” Kitty replied, at the same time that Kate Bishop mused, “Red.” Kitty twirled her soft brown curls and leaned against the paper towel dispenser. 

“Well, of course it’s red, silly. That’s not an adverb. Felicia was looking for a compliment.”

“It’s called an adjective, genius, and I was giving her a compliment. Red is symbolic. It’s passion, anger, fiery hot and bold, like Felicia. Duh.” Peter could almost hear her eye roll. 

“Aw, Katie Cat, you’re absolutely right. I could totally murder someone with these lips.” Felicia smacked them in a mock kiss. “Who should be my first target?”

“I dunno girl, male or female?”

“Surprise me.”

Kate straightened her bangs as she contemplated. Then she grimaced. “Coach Barton.” 

Kitty gasped. “The gym teacher? I thought you liked him!” 

Kate shrugged. “He knows I’m boss at baseball, but he’s totally ragging on my form. Like, he hasn’t touched a bat in fifteen years, the fuck is he trying to be? The old man can suck my ass.” Felicia snorted.

“Kinky.”

Kate made a face. “Literally that is too disgusting to even imagine. Dude could be my father.”

“Or your daddy,” Felicia wiggled her eyebrows. She and Kitty laughed while Kate retched. Peter sighed internally. This conversation was so not worth being late to Gym. Besides, he really did not need the mental image of Coach Barton and Kate in liplock. He bit his lip, flushed the toilet he hadn’t even used and tried to ignore his frantic heartbeat while he exited the stall and headed to the sinks. He could do this. He was a (mostly) straight A student and his best friend was editor of the school newspaper and a general badass; he could handle the ridicule of a few high school chicks. 

At least, that’s what he told himself as he headed towards them. Any minute now they were going to look up and see him and they’d… who knows what they’d do. Nothing good, he’d assumed. He took a deep breath and prepared to act like it was totally normal for him to be there. It was 2019, gender equality was thing, right? 

But there was no such glaring. There were no finger points, no mocking laughter, no… nothing. Peter side-eyed the trio and couldn’t believe it. They… they hadn’t even noticed he was there. 

'How?' he thought. 'How can I be this unseen even as an entirely different gender? I am literally invisible.' He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or offended.

“So… I definitely am not going to Gym now,” Kate crossed her arms and huffed. “Thanks for that.”

“As if you were planning on going anyway,” Felicia responded.

Kitty clapped her hands. “Ditch with us!” she giggled. “We could bum some smokes from the art students behind the admin office!”

“I don’t smoke, Kitty, you know this!” Felicia snapped. “And we still have History after lunch. Did you forget Mr. Howlett has a nose like a bloodhound?” 

“What, so you’ll ditch third period but you won’t ditch History?”

“Um, have you seen Mr. Howlett?” Felicia was right; even Peter couldn’t deny the manliness that was their History teacher. He couldn’t have imagined a man with so deep a voice and so gruff a personality could even be allowed to teach in a high school, but for some odd reason, even though he seemingly hated all adults (who could blame him?), he had a way with children. He was calming. And he really did know his history. It was almost as if he had fought in the wars himself. 

But yeah. Peter had respect for him. Felicia obviously harbored some more… mature feelings.

“That’s a daddy,” she winked. Kitty giggled.

“Irregardless,” Kate piped up, ‘I just need someone to help me forge this note to get out of class.” She pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled some nonsense. “To… whom… it… my… concern… My… darling… daughter… Kate… is… experiencing… a… rather… bad… bout… of… random… and… intense… migraines… Please… excuse… her… from… strenuous… brain… and… physical… activity… should… she… feel… one… coming… on…” She shoved the paper in Kitty’s face. “Here. Sign it.”

“What? I can’t sign it!” Kitty pushed the paper back. “Coach Barton probably knows my handwriting by memory now. It’s why I just ditch instead of writing notes. I don’t even bother with excuses now.” She started tugging on Kate’s arm. “Just ditch with us, come on!”

“I can’t just ditch, I’m on the team! I need to at least show up for class. For like, two minutes at least. Just sign the damn note!”

“No!”

“Felicia?”

“GIrl, please.”

“Why not?!” 

“If you’re going to ditch with us, you're going to have to get creative.”

“Dammit, Felicia!”

Peter watched from the corner of his eye as Kate continuously pushed the paper underneath Kitty’s nose. Kitty was putting up a fight, vehemently denying Kate while Felicia leaned in closer to the mirror, unconcerned and completely self interested. 

“I can sign it.” Peter blinked. 'Is that… my voice?' he thought, panic building in his gut.

The chaos paused. The girls turned to Peter, slowly. This was totally the beginning of some horror movie. What the hell did he just do?

“Excuse me?” Felicia enunciated.

Well, no going back now.

Peter gulped. “Um, I - I can sign it, the note, for you, um. If. If you needed someone. To.” God, Peter, breathe. 

“And you are?” Felicia prompted, eyebrow raised high. 

“P-Peter. Parker. I’m in your History class. And your Gym class. I, uh, well I’m actually headed there… now… but I can help you with your note?” Felicia squinted at him, contemplative. At least, Peter hoped it was contemplative, and not, like, murderous or something.

“Are you any good with forgery?” Kate asked.

Peter smirked at that. “My uncle is part of the force. I have an in with the precinct. There are way more officers who know about forging signatures than there needs to be.” He leaned his elbow on the nearby sink.

“An in with the feds… really…” And yeah, that was a gleam of interest in Felicia’s eye.

“I don’t care if you have connections with the Whitehouse, here, sign this,” Kate pushed. Peter took the paper and pen in hand and worked his magic. Kitty glanced over his shoulder and whistled low. 

“He’s not half bad,” she said, making Peter’s heart flutter at the praise. And relief. He did not want to make a fool out of himself by bragging but then not following through. 

“And you wanna make sure that you fold the paper in half, maybe stuff it in your pocket,” Peter mentioned, handing the paper back. Kate snatched it up and examined it closely. 

“Why?” she asked. 

“So it looks like you’ve been carrying it since morning,” Peter replies. “Maybe looks like you’ve even used it in a couple of other classes. If it’s fresh and unfolded, it’ll definitely look like it’s a fake.”

Felicia let out a hum of interest. “Done this before, Parker?”

Peter holds his chin up a bit higher. “Maybe a few times.” Peter didn’t really want to admit that the real reason he was so good at writing his own notes was that he wrote his own hall passes to show the hall monitors that his teachers “approved” for him to have extra lab time during class hours. Sometimes, he just had an ache for science. His confidence started to waiver, though, when Felicia started to encircle him, like a… well, like a cat. 

Peter flinched as a hand was suddenly in his face, his chin lifted for a better view.

“You’re not half bad looking,” Felicia comments. Peter blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

“It’s true!” Kitty backs off the sink to cradle peters head in her hands and looks straight into his eyes. “Oh, my gosh, if you took a cleaver and split your head in two, both sides would look, like, completely the same! That's very important!”

“Uh… thanks?” for that not at all completely disturbing image. By now, all three girls were completely staring at Peter, and he found himself thinking that maybe his invisibility before wasn’t so bad. 

“Small chin,” Kate notices. “Pointed and angled.”

“Smooth skin,” Creepy Kitty observes.

“Shiny, copper locks,” Felicia comments.

“Pretty, large doe eyes.”

“Look at that waist.”

“Liking the lip shape.”

And so on. Was Peter supposed to say something? Nah, didn’t seem like the time. 

The shrill cry of the warning bell interrupted the girls scrutiny.

“Um, well, this has been fun, but… I gotta go…” 

“Nope!” Felicia interrupted, taking his hand and pulling him towards the door. “You’re coming with us.”  
——-

Oh, ow, ow, ow ow ow ow ow. “Ow!” Peter exclaimed, probably for the sixth time in as many minutes. Torture, that’s what this was.

“Hold still!” Kitty commanded, plucking the little hairs dotting Peters eyebrows. “You have an excellent brow arch, which, lucky, but you need to refine the edges. Ya gotta shape em,” she explained. 

“What - okay, but does it have to be so damn painful?”

“Yes,” comes the answer from all three. He clenches his teeth as Kitty slowly, oh so slowly forms his brows into the shapes she wants them in. 

“So, you’ve, like, seriously never worn makeup before?” Kate asks as she paints his nails a pale pink that reminds him of Gwen’s blush. It’s been hard to stay still for so long but the last time Peter smudged his pinky nail, he was pretty sure that Kate was going to defenestrate him straight through the three story window. 

It’s such a strange turn of events for Peter, but he doesn’t question it. Mostly because he thinks that if he questions Felicia, he’d end up with claws in his eyes. But one second he was at school, scared shitless that the Kittens would view him speaking to them as a capitol offense (not to mention the whole being in the girl’s bathroom thing, but to be honest, he’d always sort of wondered how advanced the day’s youth had become towards situations like those), and the next he had literally been dragged, by the Queen Cat herself, down the hallway and out of the school front doors to what appeared to be Felicia’s own house. He was then promptly sat down while Felicia grabbed a waxing kit, Kitty brought out the makeup bag and Kate started giving Peter a manicure like it was all completely freaking normal.

Peter could sort of understand what was happening. From the way Felicia looked at him in the girls room to the unexpected appraisal of his looks, Peter knew she was considering him for… something. 

“No, I’ve never really had an interest,” he replied.

“None of your friends ever slapped some on your face?” Kate inquired.

Peter thought about Gwen and him playing with makeup. Oh my god, she would look so freaking cute.

“Um… no.”

Kate scoffed. “What kind of gay are you?” Peter shrugged.

“I mean, I just didn’t want to. I don’t really think there are any specific looks that you have to conform to when it comes to your sexuality… ”

“Doesn’t matter,” Felciia piped up. “From now on, you’re a Kitten. Very impressive work you did there with the note- ”

“That I didn’t even get to use,” Kate grumbled.

“ - we could use someone like you,” Felicia continued. “It’s a shame we haven’t crossed paths before.”

Well, that part Peter could explain. It wasn’t very hard to understand that queen bees and decathlon geeks didn’t mix. Not that Felicia had to know about his debate skills. Then Peter focused in on what she had just said.

“Use me?” He gawked. “For what?”

Kate looked to the left, brainstorming. “Report cards, permission slips, absence notes…”

“Prescriptions!” Kitty grinned.

“Shut up, Kitty!”

“Sorry, Felicia…” Kitty looked properly chastised for al of two seconds, then continued with Peter’s eyebrows as if she hadn’t just been told “No!” like a bad dog. (Bad cat?)

The dynamic of the girls was so stereotypical, Peter wanted to laugh. Felicia, the Queen. Kate, the Badass. Kitty, the Dumb-Not-So-Blonde. 

Peter thought about it. They want me in their little girl gang? Like, as more than just a one time thing? Peter could feel little butterflies in his stomach, except they weren’t so romantic as people usually described them, and they were all on fire. In fact, they felt more like kamikaze bats. He sort of wondered why they had brought him to the house but he figured that it was a one time makeover as thanks for the note, and an excuse to play with the loner gay.

How would he fit into this trio? Would there even be room for him? Sure, he had fantasized about being popular forever, but he didn’t seemed to have picked the right avatar for this specific role. 

He really should have thought about this more before he offered his services in the first place. 

He took a deep breath. “What does that entail?” He realized his mistake as soon as he said it, but he wasn’t taking it back. Kate’s brush stopped long enough for her to glance between him and Felicia. Kitty’s mouth actually dropped open. He knew he should have just smiled and agreed, but he felt too uncertain about it not to speak up. 

Felicia didn’t seem to like that.

“Do you want a formal orientation packet?” she spat. “This isn’t a hard decision. You get your popularity, a boon so that no one bullies your sorry ass, and we get our own little forger. Or hacker. I’m sure you’re nerd enough for that too. How is that so hard to understand?”

Peter bristled. He knew he was just asking for a beat down, but this was a very important decision. 

“Ok, I think what’s hard for me to understand is why you’d want me in your… group… in the first place. We’ve been taking the same classes for years and you’re just now - ow!” Peter gasped as Felicia yanked the waxing strip from off his leg. He watched as Felicia set the strip down on the ground next to her and gradually lifted herself up so that she towered above Peter. It was hard to even think of Felicia as stooping down for anyone with an imposing figure like hers, and yet she had gone low to the floor to make Peter’s legs pretty, and Peter would have thought that was sweet had he not known what sort of person Felicia was. He gulped as Felicia drew closer.

“Listen,” she purred.” I know talent when I see it, but that’s the key, see, I have to see it. You had never presented it before, so how the hell could I have known?” Felicia’s hands clenched down on the armrests, and Peter imagined that she was trying hard to be patient. She probably didn’t think that she’d need to try to convince Peter at all. Honestly, Peter couldn’t blame her, he was just as surprised when he spoke up. “I know what you’re thinking; the world sucks because it never gave you a chance, never spared you a second glance, never opened itself up to you. But who’s to blame for that?” Peter looked away. He couldn’t say anything, because it was too true. 

“You don’t get to bitch and moan about being treated unfairly, because you never tried to make yourself somebody important in the first place. Here’s a life lesson: if you want something, you take it, and you use every advantage you’ve got. No one gets anywhere from just sitting idle.” She stood, drawing herself to full height. “Now, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m giving you a second chance out of the graciousness of my heart. I’ve told you what I want, and I’ve made it clear what you’d get in return. Yes, that means there will be hard work involved, and yes, you will have to change most of who you are as a person, but that is my offer and I’m not going to beg for your hand.”

Peter released a breath and stole a look towards Kate, but she had gone right back to her nails, figurative horse blinders on as if she wasn’t aware of Peter practically vibrating with nerves in his seat. Even though Kitty was pushed to the side when Felicia stood, she wasn’t invested in the conversation either. Peter was alone, face to face with the girl from his nightmares, made to make a decision that would change his life, for better or for worse. 

A bit dramatic? Maybe.

But this was high school, and in the end, for this very reason, the choice practically made itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far! Please, tell me what you think, I'm thirsty for feedback (just like everyone else on this godforsaken website, but can you blame them?)!
> 
> Also, this pairing was totally and completely inspired by this wonderful Tom Holland/Jake Gyllenhaal thirst server:
> 
> https://discord.gg/JuH9Sn
> 
> Join us for a bite :)


End file.
